


Something in the Water

by toomuchplor



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Comedy, F/M, Humor, M/M, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-22
Updated: 2007-09-22
Packaged: 2017-10-20 04:18:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/208653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toomuchplor/pseuds/toomuchplor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one's coming out for 'screw around with the jumpers' night anymore, and John and Rodney can't figure out why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something in the Water

**Author's Note:**

> For a prompt by margueritem, but I'm not saying it here because it's part of the fun. Also, copious cheerleading and silliness from sparktastic. I may have to post our whole IM convo in another entry, because it got incredibly weird. In a good way.

“No,” said Rodney, reflexively squeezing his sandwich half so that mustard pattered onto his cafeteria tray, “it is not ‘cool’ if you start seeing Katie Brown.” The quotation marks around Ronon’s particular choice of words were apparent from the slight pause Rodney took before spitting out the rest of his sentence.

“Okay,” said Ronon, thriftily snaking his hand across to wipe up the mustard spots and licking his fingers clean, “but what if -- just, say -- what if I already slept with her and I kind of asked you after?”

Rodney greeted this follow-up question with uncharacteristic silence, blinking repeatedly and then shaking his head as though troubled by invisible mosquitoes.

“I had no idea she’d be such a hyena in bed,” said Ronon with a confiding air, hunkering in closer, taking advantage of Rodney’s frozen state by snagging his Rice Krispies square. “I mean. Huh. Can’t believe you let that one go, McKay.”

“I did not _let her go_!” Rodney exploded, a full octave higher than he usually spoke. “Some complete _Neanderthal_ went _behind my back_ and”--

“Team movie night tonight?” asked Sheppard brightly, appearing at their table, swinging one leg over his chair and settling down beside Ronon. “I traded Lorne two quarterly inventory shifts and I managed to get” -- here he paused, raising his eyebrows to heighten the suspense -- “Teen Wolf. Huh? Michael J. Fox! Eighties hair! Basketball! Hairy hijinks!”

“Can’t,” said Ronon around his mouthful of Rice Krispies. “Already have plans.” He got up and slapped Sheppard on the back. “Later.” Ronon headed out of the mess hall, leaving Sheppard looking deflated and Rodney on the verge of a stress-induced apoplexy.

“Hmm,” said Sheppard, sagging back in his chair and frowning. “I thought Ronon would _get_ Teen Wolf.”

“A hyena,” said Rodney, too loudly. “What does that even _mean_?” he asked of the room at large.

***

Sheppard came into the jumper bay and located Rodney’s legs sticking out from under jumper four. “Where _is_ everyone?” he asked.

Rodney’s legs straightened with surprise at the sound of Sheppard’s voice, but he didn’t miss a beat. “Don’t ask me.”

“It’s Friday. That’s ‘screw around with the jumpers’ night,” Sheppard insisted. “Is it really just you and me? Where’s Zelenka?”

“Ha,” said Rodney, and rolled out from under the jumper, wrench in hand. “You’re not going to believe this: he has a date.”

“Who would date Zelenka?” asked Sheppard, blinking.

“You’re also not going to believe _this_ ,” announced Rodney, grimacing. “But he finally got up the nerve to ask Elizabeth.”

“But Elizabeth doesn’t date,” said Sheppard. “Not that I’ve asked her,” he added hurriedly. “Just. Everyone knows that.”

“Well, I guess the rules are made to be broken,” Rodney returned flatly. “In fact, it seems that everyone has plans tonight. You’re looking at the only member of the entire science division who isn’t getting any action. And _that_ ,” he said, with the air of someone who was getting into familiar ranting ground, “is because Katie Brown has gone off into Ronon’s cave to be done hyena-style.”

“Yeah, you’ve gotta get past that, buddy,” said Sheppard, unsympathetic and clearly preoccupied with the first part of Rodney’s revelations. “It’s been, what? Three months?”

“Six days!” Rodney exclaimed. “Oh my god, you have the short-term memory of a --”

“Hyena?” suggested Sheppard. “Well, I’m not spending my Friday night alone with you.”

“Charming,” said Rodney, rolling his eyes before getting back under the jumper. “Well, good luck finding anyone else to hang out with you.”

“Teyla’s probably not busy,” Sheppard ventured, defensive.

“Think again,” Rodney said, his voice echoing against the Ancient hull.

“Well, Lorne’s gotta be kicking around. We can do military stuff. Throw grenades off the west pier or something.”

“Hmm,” said Rodney, in the way that meant he knew something Sheppard didn’t.

“What?” Sheppard snapped, folding his arms across his chest.

“Lorne is who Teyla’s with,” Rodney said. “She said something about showing him an Athosian batiking technique, which I’m really hoping isn’t some kind of dirty metaphor for tantric Pegasus sex.” He paused, his one visible elbow going abruptly still. “Actually, I bet that’d be pretty hot. With the wax and the brushes.”

Sheppard stood scowling, arms still crossed in front of him, for another silent minute before he loosed a heavy sigh and went over to where Rodney was happily banging away on the jumper hull. “Is this the one we’re outfitting with the test version of the suction cup landing gear?”

“It’ll be a bitter day for our detractors,” said Rodney with relish, “when we fly this baby up to the center tower and park it right on the gateroom window.” He rolled out from under the jumper to beam smugly at Sheppard.

“Have we figured out how we’d get out yet?” asked Sheppard.

“I’m thinking about attaching suction cups to our boots,” said Rodney, face thoughtful.

“If we park facing the other way,” said Sheppard, equally thoughtful, “we could use jetpacks instead.”

“Cool,” said Rodney. “Ha! Zelenka so wishes he was here. Don’t tell him about the jetpacks, we’ll let it be a surprise when we fly out of the jumper.”

“Yeah, it’s not like Elizabeth would put out on the first date anyway,” said Sheppard, grinning. Almost immediately, he schooled his face into a serious expression. “Not that I’ve asked her.”

***

“So…” said Dr. Alicia Renfrew, geologist and avid knitter with three sisters and two cats.

“So,” returned Sheppard, palming another mouthful of dried Athosian berries into his open mouth. Elizabeth’s Ancient divan was amazingly hard, even by Ancient standards. Sheppard couldn’t really envision slouching down on it to watch Monday night football.

“So, Radek tells me you like to surf?” tried Dr. Renfrew.

“Sometimes,” said Sheppard amenably enough, not offering anything else.

“And, um. That you’re reading Tolstoy? That’s pretty ambitious.”

“I’m taking it one page at a time,” acknowledged Sheppard, washing down a second handful of berries with half his glass of wine. He stared into the goblet for a few seconds, then gathered a pocket of air inside his upper lip and pushed it out again with a flatulent sound. He glanced over at Dr. Renfrew, who was sitting awkwardly with her hands folded on her lap, then leaned in towards her, apparently unaware of how her face lit up at the motion. “I don’t mean to alarm you,” he said, “but I think this may be a set-up.”

“Oh?” said Dr. Renfrew woodenly. “I hadn’t -- um. Oh. Are you -- I. How embarrassing. For both of us, I mean.”

“Ever since Elizabeth started seeing Zelenka she’s been shoving me at every single woman she can find,” Sheppard groused. “Trying to make up for her guilt over breaking her own rules about dating on the mission, I guess.”

“How are we doing in here?” asked Elizabeth too brightly, bustling back into the room with a bowl of spinach dip. “John, did you know that Alicia has two cats back home?”

“So she tells me,” said Sheppard with a forced-looking smirk as Radek came up behind Elizabeth, his arm going around her waist and making her laugh happily. “Radek, can I -- would you keep Dr. Reitman”--

“Renfrew,” corrected Dr. Renfrew quietly.

\--“Yeah, that. Could you keep her company while I have a word with Elizabeth?”

Sheppard steered Elizabeth into the kitchen and backed her up against the counter. “What the hell?” he hissed ferociously.

“I know she’s a little…but give her a chance, John!” insisted Elizabeth. “It’s a small expedition, and you’d be surprised how few women are single nowadays on Atlantis. Beggars can’t be choosers.”

“How am I begging? In what way have I possibly _begged_ for you to set me up with Reitman”--

“Renfrew.”

\--“the human houseplant?”

Elizabeth stared at Sheppard for a moment before her expression melted into soft pity. “John, it’s not good to be alone.”

“And I wouldn’t _be_ alone if everyone _else_ didn’t insist on going off in couples like it’s the end of the world and we need to reproduce as much as possible before the meteor strikes!” Sheppard exploded, forgetting to moderate the volume of his voice. “I mean, seriously, Elizabeth! _Zelenka?_ ”

“Radek is very sophisticated and insightful and --” Elizabeth answered, flushing with anger.

“Whatever!” said Sheppard, pivoting on his heel and heading for the door. He stopped and turned just long enough to shout into the next room, “Zelenka, you sorry bastard, just for this, you are _so_ not getting to test out the suction cup jumper!”

***

“Oh, Rodney,” said Teyla, sounding dismayed. “Did we have plans?” She was holding a thermometer in one hand as she stepped out of the females’ washroom just off the martial arts sparring room.

“No, I just like walking around with all this padding on me because I collect fat jokes,” said Rodney, gesturing at the foam sparring gear he’d just finished struggling into. “Are you bailing on me? What, you have plans to pick out draperies with Lorne instead?”

“Not exactly,” said Teyla, and waved the thermometer. “Dr. Keller advised me that my basal temperature would drop a few degrees on the day I would be most likely to conceive, and I was just about to radio Major Lorne and ask if he wished to attempt to impregnate me over the lunch hour. It appears I am ovulating.”

“Oh, oh my god,” stammered Rodney. “You -- no. What?”

“Are you all right, Rodney?” asked Teyla, her head tilting with concern.

“You’ve been seeing Lorne for, what, five minutes? And you’re trying to _spawn_ with him?” Rodney demanded, regaining full use of his tongue.

“We do not wish to lose any time,” said Teyla. “Lorne says that my biological clock is ticking. If you will excuse me, Rodney, I really must”--

“Something is going horribly wrong,” said Rodney, and seized Teyla by the shoulders. “Teyla, if you trust me -- if you’ve _ever_ trusted me. Do. Not. Make. Babies. With Lorne.”

“If I do not take advantage of --”

Rodney squeezed and shook Teyla a little, a sign of his psychological distress as well as his fervor because anybody who _shook_ Teyla had to be a little insane. “No. Babies.”

Teyla frowned, but after gazing thoughtfully at Rodney for a moment, slowly nodded. “If you say so, Rodney -- but next month”--

\--“I swear to god, if I don’t have this figured out by then, I will personally stand in your uterus with airport traffic control flares and wave Lorne’s sperm down the appropriate fallopian tube. But right now, I really need to go and start some research.”

***

“In the last six weeks,” said Rodney, pointing to the graph on the whiteboard, “the number of couples on Atlantis has increased by four hundred percent.”

Sheppard squinted at the board. “Does the Y axis say ‘crazy-ass breeders’?”

“Yes, and the X axis says ‘time until _new little people_ result from said crazy-ass breeders’,” Rodney snapped, slamming his fist on the whiteboard. “Focus, please? My point being, we are on a schedule here.”

“Okay,” said Sheppard snottily, and stared at the list of names Rodney had compiled. “Hang on. This is ATA-linked.”

“What are you talking about? None of these people have the ATA gene,” Rodney pointed out. “Zelenka, Elizabeth, Teyla, Ronon, Katie -- it’s practically a list of who _doesn’t_ have the gene. They all…oh.”

“Yeah, _oh_ ,” said Sheppard, impatient. “I mean, the ATA people,” and he gestured between himself and Rodney, “are _not_ being affected by whatever this is.”

“Meaning,” said Rodney, “whatever it is, it’s got to be something the Ancients didn’t intend for use on themselves. That’s good, that helps.” He began to type frantically, muttering to himself.

“On the plus side,” said Sheppard, glancing around the deserted lab, “there are fewer people cluttering up your precious workspace.”

“Only at night,” said Rodney darkly. “During the day, I can hardly make my way from one side of the room to another because of all the fornicating scientists on every surface.”

Sheppard glanced down at where his palm was resting flat on the lab bench, then gingerly lifted it up and wiped it on his BDUs.

“Aha!” said Rodney, a few minutes later. “Six weeks ago, the civil engineering department activated a device that, according to the Ancient database, supplements the water supply with nutrients that encourage healthy populations. It’s something they used on the planets they colonized with humans. The medical staff thought it was like a multivitamin shot in water form, but I’m thinking that it might have had more to do with _increasing_ the population of the colonies and less with making sure they had strong teeth and good night vision.”

“They put sex pills in the drinking water?” asked Sheppard, making a face.

“You know,” said Rodney, “the more I learn about the Ancients, the more I’m convinced that humanity is actually just a giant game of The Sims gone way overboard.”

***

“--and we’ve deactivated the device, and it’ll take four days for the chemical to flush out of the city’s water. Until then, we’re limiting water intake to the bottled supply from the Daedalus,” concluded Rodney with a flourish, slamming a half-full bottle down on the conference table by way of demonstration.

“Are you saying,” said Elizabeth carefully, “that I wouldn’t be dating Radek if it weren’t for this…drug?”

“No way,” said Ronon, shaking his head. “Katie and I are like, I dunno. Two halves of the same soul.”

“I must admit,” said Teyla, brows drawing together, “I have had my doubts about Lorne. It occurs to me now that I do not actually know his given name.”

“Well,” drawled Sheppard, kicking back in his chair, “I guess _someone_ owes me an apology for trying to set me up the other night.” He arched one eyebrow and pointedly did _not_ glance over at Elizabeth.

“Wait,” said Keller, tapping her pen on her clipboard. “You said it was ATA-linked? That’s not mentioned in the database.”

“Well, it’s the logical conclusion,” said Rodney. “Since everyone affected doesn’t have the ATA gene, it’s”--

“Lorne does,” Keller interrupted. “And he and Teyla were starting a family together.”

“Huh,” said Sheppard. “Oh yeah.”

“So that was all Lorne, I guess?” said Rodney, looking faintly disturbed. “Tick tock and all that?”

“Excuse me,” said Teyla, rising from the table. “I have some business to attend to.” The set of her shoulders as she marched from the room left no one worrying that she was about to seek out Lorne for amorous purposes.

“Oh, Warren’s getting his sorry ass kicked to next week,” winced John sympathically.

“His name’s Warren Lorne?” snorted Rodney. “Ha.”

“Thank you for your work, gentlemen,” said Elizabeth, who seemed caught in a permanent blush of confusion. “That will be all.”

Rodney waited until Ronon had safely cleared the room, then said, bitterly, “He still stole my girlfriend.”

“Oh, get over it,” Sheppard told Rodney. “It’s been, what? Seven months?”

“Seriously, were you dropped as a baby?” asked Rodney. “It’s the only way you could possibly enjoy a movie like Teen Wolf.”

***

“Thank god that’s over,” said Sheppard fervently, helping Rodney lift the last piece of the jetpack assembly. “Friday nights are back to normal.”

“Not exactly,” Rodney objected. “Zelenka and Elizabeth are in couples’ therapy on Friday nights now, and Katie and Ronon totally stole our thunder with their stupid bridge club. In fact, it seems that most of the couples are sticking together, at least for the moment. And, if you’ll observe, it’s still just you and me here in the jumper bay.”

“Yeah,” said Sheppard, his voice going a little tight. “Yeah, it is.” He cut a sideward glance at Rodney, and together they snapped the last bolt into place, hands brushing as they checked that the connection was secure.

“I think it’s ready for the test run,” said Rodney, sounding smug. Then he seemed to notice that Sheppard still hadn’t moved his hand away. “Oh.”

“I can’t believe you made me a jetpack,” said Sheppard, his voice going deep and breathy.

“Oh, you’re so easy, it’s not even funny,” said Rodney, sounding pleased with himself nonetheless. He froze, his thoughts visibly taking a downturn. “Wait, you’ve only had bottled water, right?”

“Hey,” said Sheppard, and kissed Rodney. “It’s Friday. That’s ‘screw around in the jumper’ night.”

“I thought it was ‘screw around _with_ the jumper’,” said Rodney, and kissed Sheppard back. “But I’m willing to negotiate.”


End file.
